Mirror am I pretty yet?
by marchofthedeathangels
Summary: So as she lay there she asked aloud; Mirror am I pretty yet?


**DISCLAIMER: I don't own the poem that is used, and I don't own any clique characters.**

* * *

**6 years old.**

**blue ribbon, silk ribbon,**

**streaming through my hair.**

**pigtails, toothless smile;**

**Mirror am I pretty yet?**

Six years old she laughed as she ran around, being a child and having fun. She thought she looked pretty, wearing her favorite blue and white sailor dress. She ran from her cousins playing tag, her pigtails flying behind her, the ribbons streaming back. She ran past her sisters room, but she called her in.

"Stand next to me in the mirror, I have something I want you to see." Her sister told her.

SO the little girl stood next to her beautiful older sister and looked.

"Now look at me and look at you. You aren't pretty because your too fat. Your thighs touch and your cheeks are too chubby, your hair too wild and curly. Your teeth are crooked, and your face is red from running." Her sister explained.

She looked at the differences between her and her sister, noticing her sisters thighs didn't touvh, her stomach didn't have a little bulge like hers, her cheek bones were high and perfect, her hair was sleek and shiny, her teeth perfectly straight, and her face pale and unblemished.

"Once you look like me, you'll be pretty. The mirror doesn't lie to you, it will always tell the truth. Now go back to playing." Her sister shooed her away.

She walked away and couldn't help but look in the mirror and think; Mirror am I pretty yet?

**10 years old.**

**ponytail, bobby pins,**

**taming my messy hair.**

**chubby thighs, crooked smile;**

**Mirror am I pretty yet?**

She stood in her bathroom, jabbing bobby pins in her hair to make her ponytail stay. She was having problems with her wild and unruly curly hair, it just wouldn't stay. Finally with the tenth pin, she hed tamed her messy hair. She looked in the floor length mirror, looking at her chubby thighs sticking out from shorts like huge sausages, trailing up to her printed tee shirt, and too her face.

No amount of makeup could mask her imperfections, and no matter how hard she practiced her smile always came out crooked. Her teeth were getting straighter with her braces but her smile stayed the same.

She remembered that day when her sister enlightened her with all her imperfections at the age of six, and knew she had a long ways to go before she was pretty.

So she looked in the mirror, taking in her messy hair, too chubby thighs, crooked smile, braces, and couldnt help but asking; Mirror am I pretty yet?

**14 years old.**

**straight hair, lipstick,**

**mascara running down my face.**

**trembling knees, broken smile;**

**Mirror am I pretty yet?**

She had started using a straightener, and wearing red lipstick that made her lips stand out. Right now she was crying, mascara running down her face. They had just taken her sister away, the very same one that had pointed out her imperfections at age six.

They said that she was going to die, she was just too skinny. Her sister told them that Ana was her best friend, and you could never separate them. She knew how her sister felt, because her and Mia were very close, and Ana was a good friend too.

Her sister introduced her to Ana at age eleven, taught her how to use a toothbrush, then her finger, and finally it just came up naturally. Right now she felt her stomach threatening to heave so she bent down in front of the toilet and let what little calories made it past her lips spill out of her body.

She stood up with trembling knees, rinsed out her mouth and reapplied her lipstick. She had a broken smiled on her face, and hoped it could fool everyone. No one would know the cause of her sadness was her sister being found with burn marks all over her arms and being diagnosed with anorexia.

So before she headed off to school she looked in the mirror, mascara tracks, trembling knees and broken smile, and asked the same thing she did every day; Mirror am I pretty yet?

**16 years old.**

**messy bun, chapped lips,**

**sobbing eyes and bloody wrists.**

**bony thighs, fake smile,**

**Mirror am I pretty yet?**

Now at sixteen Dylan stood in front of the mirror with a messy bun and chapped lips. She applied her Eos, hoping it would help. Then she wrote a note through sobbing eyes, and took a blade to slit her wrists.

So one last time she looked in the mirror, at her bony thighs that she could now see. How odd it was that she noticed she was finally skinny at her moment of death. She had stripped down to her bra and underwear just so she could look at herself. Rib cage showing, hip bines showing, spinal cord showing, collar bones showing, all her bones showing, she was like a skeleton with skin wrapped tightl around. Yet she still felt fat, even with the proof in the mirror in front of her. But as she looked on, she realized even with her tiny wrist dripping blood, she was still fat.

She could still afford to loose a few pounds, after all, the mirror never lies. She put on a fake smile for her last picture before death. She aimed it at the mirror and took a picture of herself in only bra and underwear, blood drip dripping from her wrist and fake smiled firmly in place, then posted it to Facebook. Maybe they would see she was almost pretty now, only a few more pounds to loose, not that she'd be around to loose them.

Taking one last look in the mirror, light fading fast, she let out all her rage and punched the mirror, breaking it, shattering it everywhere. When the mirror shards fell, so did she. Someone was trying to oped the door but she ignored it, and as she lay dying she saw a large piece of mirror that reflected her image, the one she hated so much. So while she lay there she asked aloud; Mirror am I pretty yet?

* * *

**read and review, let me know what you think? **

**~Maya xx**


End file.
